The Way to a Man's Heart (The Miller Family 3) (25 page)

Once they parked the van in Millersburg, Jonah and Leah had the day to themselves. The Woodhalls set up lawn chairs on the town square and would remain there in the shade for the duration. “They’re having an Abe Lincoln impersonator deliver the Gettysburg Address,” said Mrs. Woodhall. “Then we’ll watch a veterans’ ceremony honoring men and women from five different wars—six if you count Iraq twice.”

“What five wars would that be?” asked Leah shyly.

Following Mr. Woodhall’s list, Leah realized she’d never heard of “Operation Enduring Freedom.”

“Then there will be a variety of music from bluegrass to patriotic to show tunes performed by the high school band,” said Mrs. Woodhall as she spread out a blanket for her three-year-old son. Her daughter had already joined a group of sidewalk chalk artists.

“Would you like to walk around Millersburg?” Jonah asked.

“Jah.
I want to see everything if it’s all right with your cousins.”

“Of course, off you two go,” said Mrs. Woodhall with a wave of her hand.

Jonah and Leah browsed through bookstores, galleries, and antique shops; they wandered through an elegant historic hotel and ate at several food stands. But when she remembered her mother’s warning, she fed the rest of her fried elephant ear to the birds. Black crows flew down from atop marble statues for the sweet treat.

Jonah was attentive and charming—if Leah understood the meaning of that word—up until she asked the wrong question. “What did you think about the bishop’s sermon, about setting out with the right intentions each day? Perhaps if we did that we wouldn’t veer so far from the path.”

Jonah’s sea blue eyes darkened. “I thought it was a lot of good Sunday talk.”

“What do you mean by Sunday talk?”

“It sounds great while you’re sitting in the preaching service. But come Monday morning you find it doesn’t work so well. Nothing ever changes.”

Leah blinked from the sun’s glare. “You must have dozed off and missed part of the message. Having good intentions isn’t enough. You begin with them,
jah,
but then you must put them into action and assume that things will work out in the end. You start with a certain mind-set, like me serving customers all day without getting my dander up. You make up your mind that’s what will happen.”

“Do you really think it works that way—the big stuff, the things that matter?” He paused next to a video store and pulled her out of the throng.

In the cool shade of the building, she turned to face him. “If it’s God’s will, it will work out.”

“So it’s not up to us at all.” Jonah crossed his arms over his chest.

Leah frowned. “Just because we can’t determine the details or know His timetable doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be assertive. We must be patient. God wants His children to be happy, to thrive while they serve Him.”

Jonah shook his head. “I envy you, Leah. You have such faith. God must never have told you no.”

Her heart tightened within her chest. Jonah’s pain was evidently still raw. She wanted so much to choose the right words—those that might be a salve for his wounded spirit. “It’s not that I’ve never been told no, Jonah. God has told me no plenty of times when what I asked for has nothing to do with my purpose.” She stepped closer and lifted her chin. “I once prayed for blond hair and freckles across my nose like my sister, and you can see that God ignored that request.”

He burst out laughing. Several people passing on the sidewalk glanced in their direction. Leah tentatively reached for Jonah’s hand, yearning to offer comfort. “So now I pray for others more often than myself. And I try not to ask for things that would end up a burden…like praying for a hundred customers when our diner won’t even hold that many. And I stopped praying for more rain, or less rain, or a mild winter. I decided that God has the easy stuff like the weather and seasons already figured out.”

Jonah leaned close and brushed a kiss across her forehead.
“Danki,
Leah. Tonight I will pray to regain some of my lost faith so I don’t envy yours so much. Let’s go sit a spell with my cousins on the square.”

Leah saw her opportunity slipping away. “But that’s just it, Jonah. You can’t pray to gain faith. You just make up your mind to have it and go from there. God hears the prayers of those who believe, who trust Him with their future. If you’re sitting around waiting for your faith to come back, you’re wasting precious time.”

Jonah’s eyes narrowed while he seemed to pull back. “I’ll give what you said some thought, but don’t beat me over the head, okay?” He nodded toward the street. “Let’s get back so they don’t start to worry.”

She grasped his elbow lightly as they walked back to the town square, but all the while her mind was spinning with ideas.

She decided to make it her business to help Jonah regain what he’d lost.

Because to her, the idea of living apart from God was simply unthinkable.

During the past two weeks, Matthew learned to move slowly around the horse that was his first client. And he couldn’t imagine a bigger challenge for his initial assignment as an independent trainer. An elderly neighbor had picked up a horse at the Sugar Creek kill pen for a small sum. Because they had no bidders at the recent auction, these horses would be euthanized if no one bought them. Sometimes they were too old or had some medical ailment or had proven too balky to be trained for riding or to pull a buggy. This particular Dutch harness horse fit the latter description. The farmer who’d brought the horse home from Sugar Creek entrusted Matthew with the retraining.

He approached with a brush in one hand and his other palm open and flat. “Easy there,” he cooed and slowly reached for the animal’s flank. After ten days the gelding now allowed Matthew to groom, lead him around the yard with halter and rope, and would pull the old pony cart as long as it remained empty.

Someone must have broken the animal’s spirit with a heavy-handed crop because the horse grew agitated whenever a human approached. Matthew couldn’t fathom how anyone could be cruel to a horse—such gentle, loyal, intelligent creatures. He hoped he never witnessed that kind of cruelty, otherwise he might have to suspend his pacifist convictions.

“Are you making progress yet, son?” Simon’s words startled Matthew and the gelding equally.

“Stay back,
daed,”
he instructed. “Don’t enter the stall until he settles down. He’s still mighty skittish around folk.” He calmed the gelding with soft words and a gentle touch.

“How long will you work on Ben’s gelding?” Simon asked from behind the stall wall.

“As long as it takes. He said to send word when he’s trained to the buggy. Then I’ll probably have to spend a week training Mr. Hartman when I’m done here.”

Simon chuckled. “Not many folk have your talent or patience. But this could take the rest of summer. How will you figure out how much to charge Ben? This could turn out to be the most expensive ‘free’ horse Hartman ever got.” Simon laughed heartily while pulling his snow-white beard.

Matthew attached the cross ties to keep the horse calm and stationary while he finished the grooming.
“Ach,
I thought I’d charge Mr. Hartman twenty-five dollars.”

“Twenty-five dollars?” Simon squawked. “You would work all summer long for that paltry sum?”

“I’ve seen his farm. It’s real small. Besides, his wife is too old to sit by the roadside selling extra produce anymore. They probably don’t have much spending cash.” Matthew glanced up to catch Simon’s astonished expression before it faded.

“That’s real nice of you, and I’m proud to have a son with a generous heart. But I assure you Ben can afford to pay more than twenty-five dollars for training. Folk expect to pay a fair amount for a job well done. Don’t give away your services for free or too cheap, or people will think this is just a hobby and not your vocation.”

“I won’t,
daed,
but I thought if I turn around Mr. Hartman’s horse, and he’s pleased with my work, he’ll tell everybody in five districts. Then I’ll get more work than I can handle.”

Simon released a sound similar to an owl’s hoot. “That’s good thinking! You’ll soon be saving money for those acres across the street.”

“Yup, plus I’ve got a good-paying contract coming up in two weeks. The ranch that runs the all-day trail rides hired me for six weeks of work. They bought a group of young saddlebreds they want trained and not broken to the trails.” Matt gently rubbed down the gelding’s forelegs with a damp cloth.

“What’s the difference?” asked Simon.

“With breaking you scare the horse into behaving submissively. With training you get to know the animal and learn its body language. You teach them signals and verbal commands; then they submit with their own will and not from fear. It makes for a better experience for the rider if the horse responds willingly. Nobody wants a mean, unhappy mount on a trail ride, especially inexperienced riders.” Matthew smiled as he worked tangles from the horse’s tail. “I’m going to bunk there during the week, but I’ll come home on Friday night and have the whole weekend off. That way I won’t miss anymore summer hayrides, volleyball parties, and cookouts like I have been.”

Simon snorted. “I’m not so worried about your social life as I am your chores.”

“Don’t worry. I will pay Henry from my earnings for any chores he does. This ranch pays even better than Macintosh Farms. And on the weekends, I’ll take many of his chores so he can go fishing or swimming.”

Simon leaned over the stall gate. “You got your eye on some gal?”

Matthew laughed.
“Jah,
but it’s too soon to tell if she can put up with me. Henry says I smell like a horse most days.”

“Take a good scrub brush into the shower and maybe some of Leah’s raspberry shampoo before the next singing. And make sure you don’t whinny or neigh while you’re talking to her.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,
danki.”
He applied salve to some old fly bites that had never healed properly and then released the horse from the cross ties. After latching the stall gate behind him, he stood with his
daed
in the main walkway. Simon stared up at the ceiling where doves cooed in their rafter nests. Matt turned his gaze upward too. Both men loved the evening barn sounds while critters were settling down to sleep and the flies flew off to wherever pesky creatures go at night.

“You’ve got plenty of time, son. You’re still young.”

Matthew shuffled his feet in dirt. “I’m nineteen. I’ll be twenty soon. I’ll probably take the classes and get baptized this fall. I have no reason to wait longer.”

Father and son walked out into the warm evening air. The sun had dropped behind the western hills, casting long shadows across the lawn. Swifts headed for the loft door while purple martins soared and swooped into landing patterns toward the multiunit birdhouse.

“Not much of a
Rumschpringe,
then.” Simon’s words were more statement than question.

“Jeff Andrews taught me to drive his pickup during our lunch break at work, back in the days when we got along. I drove it around the farm roads and I got pretty good with the clutch and shifting gears.” They had reached the porch but didn’t enter the house. Matt sat down on the steps while Simon leaned his weary back on the porch post.

“Wha’cha think? About driving, I mean?”

“Oh, it was fun. I liked the heater and the AC and getting places quicker. But when Jeff had to buy gas in town, it would cost him fifty bucks to fill the tank.” Matt shook his head. “Fifty bucks,” he repeated.

Simon nodded sagely. “If you had to buy your hay, they charge five bucks a bale down at the elevator these days. And horses do love to eat, don’t they?”

Matthew could feel his
daed’s
gaze—studying him, assessing his reactions.

“Then it’s a good thing we raise our own hay and oats and have plenty of fine pastureland. That way we don’t have to pay those prices.” He stretched out his legs in the walkway gravel.

“Do you miss Macintosh Farms?”

Matthew thought before answering. “I do sometimes. That place was so beautiful, and everything was either brand new or at least top-notch. The stable ran like a clock too. And most of the time they did good by their horses.
Jah,
I miss it.” He peered up into his father’s eyes. “I know I’ll never have a farm like that, no matter how hard I work or how good I get at training.”

Simon lifted off Matt’s straw hat, tossed it on the chair, and patted his head the way he had done when his boy was a child. “There are more important things than fancy ranches and expensive saddles and tack. And, you know, those horses you love don’t care much one way or the other.”